The Courage to Dream and the Bravery to Follow It: Jai Jamali’s Journey in Dance
Some dreams arrive quietly. They begin as a feeling—a sense that something matters deeply, even before we know where it might lead.
For Jai Jamali, that feeling was dance.
Growing up in Singapore, Jai was surrounded by music. His father played the piano, his brothers played instruments, and singing was part of family life. Yet Jai was drawn towards movement. What began with street dancing gradually became something more serious: a passion he could imagine building his life around.
His journey was not made easy by money or certainty. His family could not afford formal dance training, so Jai saved his allowance, found part-time work and paid for his own classes. He tried everything he could—commercial jazz, theatre, ballet and contemporary dance—because, at that stage, he wanted to dance.
That willingness to start with what he had says a lot about Jai’s character. He did not wait for ideal circumstances or for someone else to create the path. He began building it himself, one class at a time.
A five-minute audition that changed everything
Jai’s teacher saw something in him and encouraged him to apply for a dance scholarship in Wellington, New Zealand. Jai had to look at a map to find Wellington. He also doubted that a school so far away would choose a young dancer from Singapore.
Still, he decided to try.
Using a bulky video camera, Jai recorded a five-minute VHS audition featuring ballet and contemporary dance. He sent it away and returned to his life, convinced nothing would come of it.
Six months later, he was invited to an interview. A week after that, he was offered the scholarship.
At only 16, Jai left Singapore and moved to Wellington alone. He arrived during a cold winter and lived some distance from the city, walking around 20 minutes to the train station before taking a bus to school. Far from his family and everything familiar, he sometimes wondered, “What am I doing here?”
But when he entered the studio, he felt happy. There, he found people who shared his passion and understood why dance mattered. The studio became more than a place to train. It became a place of friendship, belonging and possibility.
Learning what audiences do not see
Jai’s two years of training were rigorous. His education included dance history, composers, choreographers and the traditions behind ballet and contemporary dance. He learned that performing a movement was not enough; a dancer also needed to understand where it came from and what it meant.
The physical training was equally demanding. His days could include classes, yoga, Pilates, rehearsals and assessments. When formal classes ended, Jai often remained in the studio for several more hours, practising alone or with friends.
This is part of dance that audiences rarely see. A performance may appear effortless, but that ease comes from repetition, discipline, physical awareness, and countless hours of work.
Jai also learned to understand his own body rather than wishing it were someone else’s. He was shorter than many male dancers in the industry, so he developed his strengths—power, agility, legs, and control. Instead of letting his differences become a limitation, he learned to work with them.
The foundation he built in Wellington would later make the next opportunity possible.
When preparation meets opportunity
After completing his training, Jai worked as a dancer in Wellington, but the performance industry was small. He knew that to go further, he would need to take another risk.
He paid for his own flight to Sydney to audition for a musical without knowing whether he would get the job. If he failed, he would return to Wellington and try again.
The production was Disney’s The Lion King.
The audition lasted two days and tested far more than dance. Jai had to demonstrate ballet, jazz, singing, improvisation and versatility while watching other performers being eliminated at each stage. He kept asking himself whether he would make it.
On the second day, they offered him the role.
What began as a limited contract grew into several years of work and touring across Australia. Jai eventually became dance captain, helping other performers learn different roles within the production. He later performed in Grease and Chicago—shows he had admired while growing up.
Jai describes his opportunity as being in the right place at the right time. There is humility in that understanding. Yet timing alone could not have carried him through a two-day audition. The opportunity mattered because years of training had made him ready for it.
The discipline behind the dream
Performing in The Lion King fulfilled a dream, but it was also demanding professional work.
Jai remembers beginning his first performance day at 7 a.m. with technical rehearsals, lighting, costumes and preparation. A short break followed the matinee, then an evening performance. The day could last around 14 hours before starting the next morning again, with only one day off each week.
For Jai, this experience revealed the difference between being a dancer and being a working dancer. Talent may get someone noticed, but a professional must also be reliable, prepared and consistent. In a production involving many people, each performer must know their role and contribute to the whole.
That discipline remained with Jai long after the performances ended. It shaped how he taught, trained and approached every commitment that followed.
His career also carried uncertainty. Professional dancers move between contracts, and nothing guarantees what comes next. Between productions, Jai worked in hospitality and taught dance classes. Rather than diminishing his achievements, this reveals the reality behind them: pursuing a dream often requires adaptability as well as passion.
From performing to helping others grow
When Jai returned to Auckland and stepped back from full-time professional performance, he had to ask himself what the next chapter would be.
The answer emerged naturally from everything dance had taught him. His knowledge of movement, anatomy, strength and physical conditioning led him into personal training and group fitness. He began working with dancers, former ballerinas and others who wanted to become stronger, fitter and more flexible. He later taught programmes at Les Mills and dance classes at Viva Dance.
At first, moving away from the front row was not easy. Jai had spent much of his life performing and pursuing the next opportunity. Over time, however, he recognised another calling: helping other people achieve their goals.
That shift reveals an important part of Jai’s essence. His creativity is no longer expressed only through his own performance. It lives in the classes he prepares, the choreography he adapts and the confidence he helps others discover.
He does not treat a community dance class like an audition. If students can follow 60 per cent of the choreography, he is happy. What matters is that they enjoy themselves, play with the movement and experience the connection between music and dance.
“At the end of the day, it’s about the class,” Jai explains. “It’s not about me.”
No regrets and no shortcuts
Throughout our conversation, Jai returned to a simple philosophy: if you do not try, you will never know.
His story does not suggest that every attempt succeeds. He experienced rejection, uncertainty and mistakes. But he sees these experiences as part of learning, not reasons to stop. One door may close, but another can open—and the only way to discover it is to keep moving.
His advice to young dancers is equally direct: dance because you love it, not because someone else is forcing you. Learn different styles. Take as many classes as possible. Listen to different teachers. Build strong foundations and remain versatile.
He says there are no shortcuts to achieving a dream.
That belief is visible across his entire journey: the child who paid for his own lessons; the teenager who sent away a VHS audition despite believing he would not be chosen; the young man who moved to Sydney without a guaranteed job; the performer who endured long days to become a dance captain; and the teacher who now uses those experiences to help others.
When asked what he would say to his younger self, Jai’s answer was gentle: do not be afraid of the future. Things will eventually fall into place. Stay true to who you are.
Perhaps that is the heart of Jai Jamali’s story. Courage is not the absence of uncertainty. It is taking the next step while uncertainty remains. A dream gave Jai a direction, but bravery, preparation and persistence allowed him to follow it.
And even now, he believes a little nervousness—the butterfly feeling—is something worth keeping. It means we still care. It means we are still stretching towards what is possible.
Watch the full conversation on the Authentic Leadership Podcast: The Courage to Dream, the Bravery to Follow It: Jai Jamali’s Journey to The Lion King